Excerpts from the Diary of a Diva

I hope you got enough. When I submitted my fragile heart to you...again...and you trampled over it...again.... I hope you got enough. When you got my hopes up...again...that you might actually be worth the time it took to say your name...again... I hope you got enough. When you were deep inside me...exciting my body and touching my soul the way only you can because of the love we've shared before... I hope you got enough. When you treated me like a friend, or at least someone you liked...again... I hope you got enough. Because I did. I got enough. I got enough pain, heartache, and tears to last me a lifetime. And for the first time in a long time, I'm putting the broken pieces of my heart together with something other than your lies and promises that never seem to come true. I got enough. I've reached my limit of excusing your behavior...of blaming myself for your actions. It's not my fault that our relationship -- the one you love to refer to --...

My therapist helped me find the root of my issues. Rejection. Pretty much everything I've ever done is tied to my deep-seated fear of rejection. And if I let my mind wander, it goes back to my earliest memories. When I was little and my grandmother told me that not everyone would love me. When I was five, I tried to find a dad among my mom's friends. I figured you could just ask someone to be your father. Who knew biology was involved? When we moved back to Texas and the kids teased me for the way I talked. They said I was "proper" and "thought I was White." My therapist told me a few weeks ago that I had tolerated too many things. Now I see why...because of my fear of being rejected. Now I have to figure out how to fix that. Ugh..

Sin is only good for a season. I'm at the end of mine. I finally allowed Juice to have what he wanted. And guess what? It was good for me, too. Honestly, it was the first time in forever that someone satisfied me as much -- or at least in a comparable fashion -- as New Boo. I thought I'd found my placebo drug. Then I got greedy. I wanted it again -- this time on my terms. I picked the spot and we went. When it was over, I looked around the beautiful room in the beautiful part of town and got sad. I didn't want to be with him. He has the personality of paint drying...with the penis of Dirk Digler. I can't do it. I swear. New Boo is an awful, awful man. He doesn't want to be with me. He wants to use me for his convenience. That's all it'll ever be now. There are times when I'd rather have a portion of his time to pretend that there's love there. I know there's not, but I can paint that picture in my brain. I can make myself believe that he ...